


a story of sorts

by kikidarko



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-25
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2019-03-23 15:14:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13790406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kikidarko/pseuds/kikidarko
Summary: in which a boy with green eyes meets a boy with blue ones.





	a story of sorts

He drew circles.

He drew these circles without any particular effort, hence the reason that they ended up looking more like lumps, or ovals, if you will.

His mind was at peace, though, which is precisely why he drew them.

When he was a younger boy (and here the term ‘younger’ has been placed due to the fact that he still considered himself quite young at the age of thirteen) he read this news article about another young boy, two years his senior, who also drew shapes after going through the mild trauma of the divorce of his parents. Apparently, the separation of this boy’s mother and father sent him into a coma of sorts, where all he did was draw these shapes, stopping only to take a wee or to sleep where he sat, or occasionally eat one of his mother’s dinners that she made for him.

This boy’s strange actions caused his parents to worry, and his father moved back into his home, where the boy and his mother resided, in order to keep a more constant supervision on him. Over time, however, his parents fell back into love, and one day, the boy just snapped out of it. He just stopped. Stopped drawing his shapes, and picked up his young life just where he had left it. And everything was normal again. 

And this is why this distinct thirteen-year-old drew his own circles. He hoped that one day, he would just…snap out of it. And everything would be normal again.

“Harry?”

A head of brown curls shot up to see who had summoned him.

“Large caramel latte, two sugars, skim milk and no foam?”

The woman who had called him was new. He knew this because unlike his regulars here, she simply left the cup on the pedestal rather than bringing it straight to him. Although he hardly strayed from routine, he did not mind much that he had to take a few extra steps to retrieve his drink.

The boy, a man now, gently closed his sketchbook and tucked it underneath his arm. He took slow strides up to the booth, where the woman had left his coffee, steam seething out of the jelly-bean shaped hole cut into the top of the lid.

His left hand grasped the drink even slower, and he realized just how much he needed this right now. His boots clicked half-heartedly across the clean, tiled floor as he made his way back to his booth in one, two, three, four large strides. His palm burned from where his flesh met the warm cardboard, but the cup was put down on the table before it made any real damage.

His eyes drooped in a lazy sort of way. He was not tired. He was quite awake, actually, but there was something about drawing those routine circles that wore him out. No matter. He had already finished for the day.

He yawned. Harry. Harry yawned. A sign that he needed his daily does of caffeine right about now.

The cup was only halfway to his unshaven face when the door opened, and the little bell above the door jingled. Harry froze.

He was not sure why he did this, though. The person was nothing short of the average looking businessman, save for his younger, pixie-like appearance. A phone to his ear, mouth moving a mile a minute, yet the words he was saying through the speaker did not quite register in Harry’s mind. Which was okay, because Harry felt rather rude listening in to people’s private conversations. Although this conversation did not seem too private based on the volume of the man’s voice. 

He walked up to the register with steady, deliberate steps, and although he was not very tall, he carried himself in such a way that it almost made a person _think_ that he was tall. It was all a far cry from the way that Harry went about, slumping his shoulders as if to hide away from the rest of the world. His high cheekbones and bright eyes led Harry to the conclusion that this man looked very much like Peter Pan, and he was almost surprised that the woman behind the counter called out “Louis” rather than “Peter” when his order was ready.

The man walked out of the small coffee shop just as quickly as he had come. 

Harry watched as the man turned around to look back inside of the coffee shop, his blue eyes meeting Harry’s own green ones for just a split second before he turned on his heel and stepped back into his cab.

Once Harry was sure that he would not come back into the store, he put down his now-cooled coffee and wrote five words in the bottom left corner of his paper.

_yorkshire_

_no sugar_

_blue_

_louis_

This was the first time he broke his routine.

-

He knew that he should have been working. He knew that he should have been doing _something_ , anything rather than toying with the small koosh ball in his hands. 

The thing is, Louis Tomlinson is the best of the best. And he knows it. In his line of work, there are not many opportunities to rise up, yet Louis has done just that. In just under two years, he has managed to go from temp, to secretary, to personal assistant, to manager of the Brooklyn branch, to VP of the entire company, second in command only to his own ex-step-father.

Of course, many of his once-coworkers (now subordinates) looked down upon his advances through the rankings due to the fact that “little Louis’ daddy” scored him his job. But hey, the way Louis sees it, it is their loss for not having a (sort of) relative who happens to be the president of one of the largest stock companies in the world, and, furthermore, for not having the talent that he possesses. 

How one can have a talent in stocks? Louis isn’t quite sure. What he _is_ sure of is that, especially because of his title in the business, he ought to get some work done. 

Maybe if he got himself a fresh mug of tea…yes, that should ensure his utmost efficiency in the completion of his work!

Louis set down the purple koosh ball and headed to the corner of his small office to retrieve his trench coat from its rack. It was not too chilly outside, but in the middle of September, one can never tell. 

Leaving a pink sticky note on the door informing anyone who cared to read it that he would be out for the next fifteen minutes (also making sure to add a fat DO NOT DISTURB at the bottom), he strolled down the hallway and to the elevators, time not being his most important concern right about then. 

Five minutes later and seated in a bright yellow cab, he slipped a few bills to the driver and opened the surprisingly shiny door. Which is precisely when the call from his ex-step-father came in. Louis rolled his eyes. 

“Would you mind just waiting here a few minutes?” he asked the cab driver before sliding his thumb across the screen to answer the incoming call. 

“Hullo?” he asked in a droll tone, but was harshly cut off by the surprisingly shrill voice of the grown man on the other end of the line. 

“Mr. Tomlinson!” the man roared, his voice quaking slightly in rage towards the end of his exclamation. “Did you or did you not finish the files I asked you to fill out over an hour ago?!”

Louis frowned. His ex-step-father must have gone into his office again, despite the bright pink sticky he had left on his door. “Why do I even bother…” he muttered, but it did not go past his ex-step-father. Nothing seemed to go past his ex-step-father.

“What was that?” 

Louis’ frown deepened as he opened the door to the cafe. He just barely registered the shocked-looking man sitting alone at the large booth to his right before he spat back into the cell phone, “Nothing, Mark, it was nothing.”

Louis could feel the eyes of the man boring into his side, like a hole had been gouged out of his stomach. He pictured what would happen if his guts spilled open because of this, and whether or not he would end up getting his tea, and if the boy would rush over to save him and take him to the hospital. Meanwhile, he talked his mouth off over the phone to his ex-step-father about the papers that he was supposed to do, and somehow managed to order his tea. 

He paid quickly and left, but once he made it out of the doorway, he looked back through the window of the coffee shop on the corner to see a pair of piercing green eyes meet his blue ones. And he was intrigued.


End file.
